The Strangers' Engagement
by musicofthewater
Summary: Cato and Clove barely know each other. All they know is that they don't want to get married to each other in accordance with their parents' plans. But when they are thrown into the 74th Hunger Games together, can they set aside their differences for the sake of survival? Rated T because of Hunger Games gore and stuff.
1. Chapter 1

I tap my foot impatiently, waiting for the ridiculous, blue-haired Capitolite to finish her speech and move on with the reaping. She stands on the stage gushing about how much she loves District 2 and her certainty that we will have a victor this year, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her audience could not care less.

This year I will be volunteering, having won the right to do so by competing against several other boys at the training center, so I am especially eager for the real point of the day to begin. Finally, the escort, whose name I do not know because she is new this year, moves toward the glass ball containing the girls' names. Now I give her my full attention, waiting to see who my district partner and possible ally will be.

"Clove Linnington!" I groan as a small, dark-haired girl steps out from the sixteen-year-old section. The girls and boys train separately, so for all I know, she could be an ace with weapons, but her stature is not at all intimidating. I hope for someone more menacing to volunteer for her, but the crowd is silent. Female volunteers are much less common than males. I try not to let the thought of my partner, a so-called "Career" distract me as the escort prepares to draw a slip from the other ball, the one that holds my name.

"Robert Bumsworth!"

The words barely escape her lips before I rush forward, shouting, "I volunteer!" Robert, who has hardly stepped out of his section of fifteen-year-olds, sighs in relief, gives me a thumbs-up, and retreats back to the rest of the boys his age. Not everyone is as eager for the glory as I am.

"Excellent!" The escort trills as she welcomes me to the stage. "Now, what is your name, dear?"

"Cato Parkinson."

"Wonderful! Now shake hands with your partner and we shall be off!" I hold my hand out to the slight girl standing in front of me, and our eyes meet for a split second as our hands touch. _Well, at least she's pretty. Maybe she'll get us some sponsors,_ I think, trying to be optimistic.

My first visitor is my mother, who bursts into the room and nearly tackles me to the ground with her bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, why did it have to be her? What on earth are we going to do about the wedding now that you're both going into the arena?" She wails.

"Well, considering that only one of us can get out alive, I'm guessing there's not going to be a wedding," I reply dryly. Since Clove's name had been drawn, I had been trying to ignore the fact that I could possibly murder my fiancé, but the prospect didn't bother me as much as it probably should have. It wasn't like I loved her. In fact, I had never even talked to her. My mother, a status-hungry socialite, had arranged the whole engagement with Clove's parents, whose family was extraordinarily wealthy. The fact that I would be volunteering in the Games and could potentially return home a Victor was the main bargaining point in the arrangement. I suspected that Clove was about as unhappy about marrying me as I was about marrying her. At least we didn't have to worry about that now.

My mother sobs into my chest as she begs me not to kill Clove.

"Mom, if she's stupid enough to attack me, I'm not going to sit back and let her kill me just to save your relationship with her family."

"But Cato, she's a Linnington! A friendship with that family can go a long way, even if you can't marry into them. Although they do have a younger daughter…maybe I can work something out with that. But until then, don't kill Clove or the whole plan could be ruined!"

"I don't care about your stupid plan, and I didn't even want to marry, anyway," I snarl at my mother. "I'm going to win these games whatever it takes, even if it means killing her. That _is_ the point of these games, you know." And with that, my hour for visitors is up. My mother is taken from the room by the Peacekeepers, and I stomp off to the train, following the escort (whose name I still do not know) with Clove, looking equally frustrated, by my side.


	2. Chapter 2

Our escort, whose name I learn is Ciana, is completely oblivious to the icy tension that envelops the train car at dinner. Clove and I don't speak, or even look at each other, and our mentors take notice. Ciana doesn't, though, and spends the whole dinner prattling on about the latest Capitol fashions, unaware that nobody is paying attention to her.

I want to go to bed after dinner and escape the daggers that Clove is shooting me with her eyes, but the adults force us to watch the recap of the reapings. I take a seat and notice that Clove chooses the farthest possible seat away from me. I sigh and turn my attention to the TV.

I carefully watch the Career districts to see who my allies will be, and am pleased that they seem formidable. I drift off into a daze after District 4, only half-watching the program. The boy from 11 catches my eye, though, and I wonder if he would accept an offer to join the Career pack. Then a girl from 12 volunteers, which is completely unheard of. I make a mental note to keep an eye on her, although she is even smaller than Clove, making me doubt that she will actually be a threat.

I wake up the next morning dreading the Opening Ceremony. Not only will I have to pretend to love the Capitol to gain sponsors, but I will be forced to remain in a tiny carriage next to my (ex?)fiancé, who I'm fairly certain hates me. I groan at the prospect, but roll out of bed prepared to face it.

Clove is just as icy at breakfast as she was the night before at dinner, but this time the mentors completely ignore her attitude and talk to us anyway. Brutus and Enobaria tell us to shamelessly suck up to the crowd, much to my displeasure. I have never been a fan of kissing peoples' asses to get what I need, but acting aloof in a situation like this could be the difference between life and death. I resign myself to doing what my mentors say, telling myself that I will be glad I listened when I am living in a mansion in the Victors Village.

Clove and I are handed over to our prep teams and stylists after lunch. While I'm not exactly looking forward to being prepped by President Snow's puppets, I am grateful for the break from the ice princess. But as my prep team begins to work on me, I reconsider my position. Clove might radiate hatred, but at least she doesn't talk and giggle like an idiot. And from the little I know about her, I do know that she is intelligent. Even though she was two years behind me in school, I knew that she always got top marks. Everyone did. She was the favorite of every teacher, meaning they raved about her to any class that would listen. My biology teacher was notorious for being easy to get off subject, so it was often a game to mention Clove and see how long a class could get him to talk about her.

After what seems like hours, I am finally deemed ready for the ceremony. My stylist turns me to face a mirror, and I take in my Roman gladiator costume. I must admit that I'm impressed. Maybe I was wrong about the idiocy of my mentor.

I walk down to the carriages to find that Clove has already beat me there, cooing at the horses that will pull our carriage and dressed in an identical costume. She looks up after a minute to see my watching her.

"What are you looking at?" She snaps. I note that these are the first words she has spoken to me since we were named tributes. I shrug.

"Just wondering what it feels like to actually be tolerated by you. Those horses know better than I do." I expect a snappy retort, but apparently she's done talking to me. She just scowls and returns to her beloved horses.

Clove becomes a completely different person once we leave the stable and enter the parade. Instead of being icy and hostile, she waves and blows kisses to the crowd, giving the impression that she is actually likeable. Maybe she is to other people. I ponder the fact that maybe it's just me she hates. Unfortunately, that's probably right. I just have no idea what I did. I push her out of my mind and beam at the crowd, drinking in their cheers.

Most of the attention is focused on us until District 12 comes out. And suddenly, they are on fire. I watch them on the big screen that shows the tributes joining the parade and wonder if their costumes accidentally malfunctioned or something before I realize that neither tribute seems surprised. The fire is part of the costume. I wonder vaguely what got into District 12 this year. First a volunteer, now they are actually making an impression at the Opening Ceremony. Still, I doubt that they will stray too much from tradition when it comes time to enter the arena. They will most likely be in the sky on the first night.

After a final cheer from the audience, we are led back to the stables to disembark our carriages. The likable Clove is gone. She jumps off the carriage as soon as it comes to a stop, apparently eager to get away from me as soon as possible. Brutus and Enobaria are waiting for us at the entrance to the training center, and envelop us both in hugs. I can't help but be afraid that Enobaria will bite my neck with her pointed gold teeth to ensure that her tribute will have one less competitor. While Clove and Enobaria head up to our floor, Brutus holds me back and pulls me aside.

"What's going on between you and Clove?" It is not a question, but a statement.

"Well nothing because she won't actually talk to me," I reply.

"Stop being a smart ass." I had forgotten that Brutus had little sense of humor. "Obviously, if she refuses to talk to you, she has something against you. What is it?"

"We're sort of engaged," I mumble. Brutus stares at me, openmouthed. The engagement had not been common knowledge in District 2, as Clove's family wanted to wait until she was done with school before she was married off and because they wanted to make sure I actually came back from the Hunger Games alive.

"I take it she wasn't particularly happy with the arrangement," Brutus says, apparently finding his ability to speak again.

"Neither of us were. Our parents arranged the whole thing. But I never actually hated her, I just didn't want to marry her. I thought she could let it go seeing as at least one of us will end up dead and that makes marriage kind of hard, but I was wrong."

"Well she needs to get over herself. Find a way to get on her good side, because you're going to need her in the arena. You two need to work together; I don't care if she hates you. She can kill you once the Career alliance breaks up. But until then, I want you to stick together and help each other survive." And with that, he stalks off, leaving me wondering how I am supposed to get on Clove's good side.

**So there's Chapter 2. Reviews would be much appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

Training. It is the first word that pops into my head as I wake up the next morning, remembering that today is the first of three days that we are given to train before we are thrown into the arena. I am instantly overwhelmed by mixed feelings of excitement and dread. I am eager to finally show off my skills and intimidate some of the weaker tributes, but I am clueless as to how to make Clove like me. I assume that we are both planning on joining the Career alliance, so I'm not sure how she plans to avoid me in the arena if we're going to be working together. Maybe today she'd like to sit down and have a nice chat about it.

Breakfast with Clove is the usual icy affair, so I doubt her willingness to sit down and have a chat about our relationship. We don't exchange a single word, but I can feel Brutus staring me down, willing me to get on her good side one way or another. Finally, after we have eaten, Clove and I head to the elevator hoping to be some of the first tributes at training. The doors of the elevator slide closed, and she immediately begins glaring at the door, as if cursing it for closing and leaving her trapped with me.

"So," I begin, attempting to start a friendly conversation. "Got any special talents?"

She redirects her glare from the door to me, but I see the surprise in her face that I am actually talking to her. "Knives," she finally replies, and then turns again to face the doors.

"That's nice. Personally, I like the swords." She gives no sign that she heard me. Luckily, the doors to the basement of the training center open at that moment, and the awkwardness of our silence is ended. She darts out as soon as the doors slide far enough apart for her to slip through, and I take a moment to thank whatever god that may be out there that we are not from District 12. Somehow the idea of an elevator journey six times as long as the one I just endured is not appealing.

The rest of the tributes slowly arrive and scatter to the various stations. Many of the tributes from non-career districts head toward the survival stations, but a few attempt to handle the weapons. Most fail miserably, and I smirk at their attempts. Winning these games will be easy.

I glance around the gym, scouting my competition. After District 12's fiery first impressions, I was hoping to watch them wield some of the weapons, but they are too busy learning how to tie knots. So I head over to the spear section, where I see the boy from District 1 throwing spears at the human dummies. I suppose this Career alliance should be put together sooner or later.

"Not bad," I say, walking up to the boy as he hits a dummy in the heart. He gives me a quick once-over, but upon seeing the 2 attached to my bicep, smiles and thanks me.

"I should hope I'm good at this by now. I haven't exactly been training my whole life to miss the bullseye now. The name's Marvel, by the way," he says, sticking out his hand.

"Cato," I reply as I return the handshake. "Mind if I join you?"

Marvel nods, and I claim the station next to him. Spears are not my forte, but I'm not bad at them. I don't hit near as many bullseyes as Marvel does, but I hit a decent amount, and the good majority of my throws are at least on target, if not in the center. Still, a spear is not nearly as comfortable in my hand as a sword is.

"So," I say after about fifteen minutes of throwing. "Is your partner as good as you are?"

"Glimmer's not bad. She doesn't have one special weapon. She's just decent with a bunch of different ones. She can be a bit of a handful to put up with though. What about your partner?"

"I'm not actually sure. Guys train separately from the girls in 2, so I've never seen her do anything. She says she can throw knives though."

"Huh. That seems kind of counterproductive. Why do they do that?"

I shrug. "I guess so if one tribute doesn't want to be a Career, the other can't use their weaknesses against them and their strengths will be kept a secret."

"Makes sense I guess. Let's watch her. What's her name again?"

"Clove," I reply. We both turn to watch her at the knife station. I still have my doubts about her abilities due to her size. That is, until she hits her target dummy in the center of the brain with a throw from her right hand and straight in the heart with a toss from her left in rapid succession. Marvel whistles.

"She's good. I gotta admit, I wasn't expecting much seeing how small she is, but she's got a good arm. Two, actually," Marvel says, obviously impressed.

"To tell you the truth, I'm a little surprised too. I didn't think deadliness came in such a small package."

"Maybe she'll play off that. People will probably underestimate her right up until they have a knife in their heart."

I chuckle at the idea. "Maybe she'll take out Thresh that way."

"Maybe," Marvel replies. "Unless he joins us. The best way to eliminate an enemy is to make him an ally. And he would be one hell of an ally."

"True." I had thought about asking Thresh to be a Career, but something tells me he won't say yes. I suppose it's worth a shot though.

"So I assume we're definitely making a Career alliance together?" Marvel asks.

"Hell yeah," I reply, sticking out my hand for him to shake. He grasps it, and the Career pack is officially started.

"Excellent. Who should we pull in next?" Hoping to avoid Clove for a little longer, I suggest talking to Glimmer, who is currently practicing her archery skills. She beams at us as we approach, and carefully sets her bow on the ground to come talk to us.

"Glimmer," she smiles at me, holding out her hand. "I'm guessing you're going to be my ally. Nice to meet you."

"Cato," I reply. I'm glad she just assumes that we're going to be allies so that I don't have to convince her.

"Is the girl from 2 in or have you not talked to her yet? I was chatting with her earlier. She seems pretty friendly," Glimmer says.

What the hell, I think. It really is just me she hates.

"Friendliness isn't really my main concern with an arm like that," Marvel says as Clove hits another bullseye.

Glimmer nods. "Lets go talk to her! I bet she'll be psyched about this."

Although I know Clove had planned on joining the Careers, half of me wonders if she'll even agree to the alliance knowing I'm in it. It wouldn't surprise me too much.

Glimmer skips over to Clove and begins chatting animatedly with her. Clove puts her knives down and turns around to face Glimmer, and sees Marvel and me approaching. Her smile momentarily turns into a scowl, but she manages to correct it before anyone else notices. Apparently she plans to continue to hate me without letting anyone else know she hates me.

As much as I wish she would talk to me, Clove's hatred intrigues me in a strange way. I've been told I'm good looking, and my prowess at the training center is no secret. Girls are usually all too eager to talk to me. It's almost no fun because there is no challenge anymore. Except for Clove. Although mostly friendly, she wasn't known as a social butterfly in District 2 and she didn't concern herself with the things that most other girls did, like fashion or parties or boys. In fact, I don't think I can recall her ever having a boyfriend. She was always too focused on her studies and, apparently, her training. She was well-liked, but not very well-known. She's a complete mystery to me, a puzzle that I would like the opportunity to solve. I was furious with my mother when I found out she had arranged for me to marry Clove but, although I would have never admitted it to her, I remember thinking to myself that she could have picked worse.

I pull myself out of my reminiscing to see Clove and Marvel introducing themselves to each other. And then I remember the game that we are trapped in. It doesn't matter how pretty or mysterious Clove is. She isn't my fiancé anymore. Just my ally. Hopefully.


	4. Chapter 4

Glimmer takes over Career recruitment, so by lunchtime, the District 4 girl, whose name is Marina, is in on the alliance and Glimmer is pouting because Thresh outright refused her. Although I am disappointed that I will be fighting him instead of fighting with him, it is what I expected him to do. The outlying districts see us as nothing more than brutal, bloodthirsty animals. And anyway, Glimmer's humiliation about being rejected is rather hilarious.

The five of us sit together at lunch, Clove taking the seat farthest from me. I half expect her not to talk just because I am there, but she seems to be making a decent effort to connect with the rest of them. She jokes with Marvel, gossips with Glimmer, and talks strategy with Marina, who turns out to be something of a strategic genius. I am happy to see that I can stand the rest of my alliance so that I won't have to kill them and be alone after the first day. But I am thoroughly annoyed by Clove's act. I never did anything to her personally, so I don't see why she should hate me. The more she jokes around with the rest of the Careers, pointedly ignoring me, the more I want to scream at her. I try to talk to her multiple times during the meal, or to join in conversations that she is involved in, but my efforts are futile. She just finds someone new to talk to, leaving me fuming.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. I stick to the swords, smirking every once in a while as I see a tribute watching me, terrified. Before I know it, it is time to return to our apartments. Clove stands in the corner of our shared elevator, sullen and hostile, as it rises to the second floor. As it stops and the doors open, she makes a move to escape, but I grab her arm, unable to put up with her hostility anymore.

"Look princess, I don't know what your problem is, but I'd appreciate it if you could at least act like you can stand me. We're not going to get many sponsors if people think you hate me," I growl.

"But I do hate you," she replies, a death glare on her face.

"What the hell did I ever do to you?" I yell, angry now.

"I don't want to be married! Do you think I'm just some prize, some reward for winning these precious games? You win, and then you can have the daughter of a rich family and all the money you could possibly want?"

"You think I had any more say in it than you did? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't want to be married either, that if I made it out of these games alive that I might actually want to choose who I got to spend the rest of my life with?"

"No!" She snaps, shaking me off and running to her room. I hear a door slam, and we don't see Clove for the rest of the night. I am still fuming at her self-centeredness, but at least I got my point across.

Dinner is still an icy affair, but this time it is me projecting the hostile feelings instead of Clove.

"So I take it getting on Clove's good side didn't go too well," Brutus says, breaking a silence that had spanned nearly twenty minutes save for the clinking of forks against plates.

"I tried. I really tried. But she's absolutely impossible. I don't know what else you want me to do," I reply.

"You call yelling at her trying to get on her good side? Cato, we all heard your shouting match. Yelling at a girl is never going to make her see your point."

"I didn't just yell at her! I tried asking about her talents on the elevator and talking to her at lunch. It's not my fault she gives me one word replies and then ignores me."

"If that's your attitude towards the situation, you're not trying hard enough," he tells me. I've had enough. I mumble that I'm going to bed, throw my napkin onto the table, and retreat to my room in much the same fashion that Clove did, door slam and all.

I shower and lay on my bed for hours, unable to sleep, just thinking. I used to occupy myself when I was bored by envisioning myself winning the Hunger Games, surrounded by glory and adoring cheering fans. I haven't even entered the arena yet, and already the actual reality of the Games is nothing like my vision. My mentor and partner are both impossible to deal with, and I have been outshone by the District 12 tributes, of all people. It makes me furious. I have not been training and waiting for this opportunity for eighteen years to fail now. I continue to rant to myself in my head until my fury has dissipated. And once again, as it has done countless times in the past couple of days, my mind turns to Clove.

Looking at her actions from a more rational point of view, I no longer see her as a sullen, hateful girl. She is just a scared sixteen-year-old tribute, forced to fight to the death by a power-hungry Capitol and too stubborn to admit that she might be wrong about someone. Suddenly, I feel sorry for her. She didn't want this like I did. I make a mental note to try harder to connect with her, and to try being genuinely nice. Finally, I fall into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of a happy, laughing Clove.

I fully expect Clove to hate me even more than she already did after my outburst last night, but once again, she proves that I barely know her. At breakfast, she is borderline friendly. She chats with Enobaria and Brutus, and even asks me how my eggs are, commenting that she might like some. Brutus catches my eye at one point, and I can see that he is just as confused as I am.

As we step into the elevator to ride down to the training center, I watch Clove out of the corner of my eye, hoping for some clue to her sudden change of heart. She sees me staring, but instead of snapping at me like she did at the Opening Ceremonies, gives me a ghost of a smile.

"I'm sorry," she finally blurts out. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you last night, and for the way I've been acting this whole week. I was too concerned with myself to even think about how you were feeling, and my mother had told me that you were excited to marry me. It just never occurred to me that you had as little to do with it as I did. I just took my anger out on you, and I know you don't deserve that. Especially now that there won't even be a wedding, and I should be focusing on surviving instead of hating you." The elevator dings right as she stops speaking, signaling the arrival to our destination. I use the split second of the distraction to register my shock and gather my thoughts, motioning for her to exit the elevator ahead of me.

Finally, I manage to choke out an "it's ok" as the elevator doors close behind us.

"It's not though. I feel terrible, and I understand if you hate me," she says.

"I don't," I reply. "I'm just glad we fixed this now so I don't have to kill you in the arena." She looks scared for a minute before she realizes I was joking. For the first time since I volunteered, I let out a real laugh at seeing her face. She gives me a playful glare and shoves me. She catches me off guard and I stumble, causing her to laugh this time.

"In all seriousness though, I don't think I could kill someone from my district. My mom begged me not to kill you when she visited me in the Justice Building before we left and I told her I would if I had to. But I never wanted to, and I kept hoping I wouldn't have to." I don't know what made me tell her this. Twenty-four hours ago, we weren't talking to each other. But now I feel like I can trust her. And part of me wants her to know that she doesn't have to fear me.

"Thanks," she says as she gives me a genuine smile, perhaps the first I have seen. "But I still feel like I have to make it up to you somehow."

"You could give me some knife throwing lessons," I reply with a wink.


	5. Chapter 5

Clove grins. "Sure. But don't be upset when you can't beat me," she says, leading me over to the knife station.

Over the course of the next few hours, I attempt to throw knives, Clove futilely trying to correct my throwing motion or release point or whatever else is wrong. I'd laughed when she warned me that I couldn't beat her, and now I was getting my karma. Now I remember why I had been assigned to swords as a kid. When we first started our training in District 2, each kid tried out all the stations to see which would be the best fit. I had been terrible with the knives. Clearly my skills had not improved much.

But in the midst of all the knife throwing, we talk and joke like normal teenagers. Not the killing machines that we are supposed to be. I find that Clove is actually quite pleasant, and I enjoy being around her.

"I don't understand," Clove laughs after I completely miss yet another target. "How can you throw a spear perfectly well but not a knife? It's the same motion, just a different size object."

"Well why don't you go throw a spear and see how that works out for you?" I tease, knowing the weapon would likely be much too heavy for her to throw very far.

"Sure," she says with a smirk, and we abandon the knife station to join Marvel at the spears.

"Hello friends. Want some lessons? I'm getting rather bored of doing nothing but this, but my mentor refuses to let me try out any of the other stations," Marvel greets us as we approach.

"Well you can take a break and watch Clove try to throw a spear," I say with a smile. She rolls her eyes and picks up a spear, weighing it in her hand as she would a knife. She grips it tightly and throws it toward the target, hitting the ring just outside the bullseye. Not a perfect hit, but good enough to incapacitate her target enough to kill them easily at close range.

"Alright, point proven," I concede. And to think that at the Reaping, a mere three days ago, I thought her incapable of being deadly.

The lunch bell rings, and Clove, Marvel, and I meet up with Glimmer and Marina to once again claim a table together. This time Clove sits next to me, and we all participate in one big conversation instead of having two, one involving me and another involving Clove.

"So if you don't mind me asking, what the hell is going on with you and Clove? Yesterday she treated you like the plague and today you spent the whole morning together." Marvel and I are throwing spears together again. I decided to just give up on the knives and give all the ones I find in the arena to Clove. The spears make me feel competent with something. With knives, I might as well be a tribute from an outlying district without a day of training.

"We, uh, had some issues," I say, not willing to tell Marvel about Clove and mine's engagement but not sure how to phrase the situation. "We didn't quite see eye-to-eye on some stuff. But we sort of worked it out last night and now we're on good terms."

"Gee, why don't you be a little more vague with that reply," Marvel responds sarcastically.

"Why does it matter anyway? It's all good now. And at least one of us is going to die anyway, so it's not like it would've been an issue for very long." But even as I say it, I don't like the idea of Clove dying. She doesn't deserve that.

"Alright, man," Marvel laughs. "I'll just chalk it up to girls being crazy."

"Sounds like a pretty good explanation to me. Believe me, I'm about as confused as you," I reply. As if on cue, we both look over to the girls. Marina is supposedly teaching Glimmer and Clove to make fishnets, but the three of them are giggling uncontrollably while sitting on the floor, the forgotten fishnets in their laps. How productive.

The last morning of training is fairly uneventful. Marvel and I wield swords together after he decides that his mentor's advice is crap and he can't stand spears a second longer. ("The pretty boy is too busy looking at himself in his mirror to care what I do anyway," he declares).

Lunch is not the joyous affair it was the day before. Although we know that we are talented, we can't help but be slightly nervous about our private sessions. I had a nightmare last night that I tried to behead a dummy and then spin to stab another, but I missed the first and ended up twirling around like a terrible ballerina and then falling on the floor and impaling myself. But that won't happen in this session, or in the Games. My sword never misses its mark.

Finally, Marvel is called into the gymnasium. We all give him smiles and thumbs up as he leaves us. Then it's Glimmer's turn. And then mine. I get up from the table and give Clove and Marina a small smile before leaving them on their own.

I introduce myself to the Gamemakers and immediately head for the swords. I slash one dummy after another, decapitating some while skewering others through the heart. When I estimate that I have about five minutes left, I move to the spears, just to show them that I can use more than one weapon. I hit every target. I chance a glance up at the Gamemakers. Many are nodding in approval, and a few are jotting down notes on pads that they hold in their palms.

"Thank you. You are free to leave now," one addresses me, gesturing to the door. I think he's Seneca Crane, the Head Gamemaker this year.

I bow for good measure and head to the elevator.

"Well?" Brutus wastes no time in questioning me about my session, pouncing on me the second I step off the elevator. He hadn't really given me any instructions; he'd just trusted my judgment on what to do, so I wasn't really sure what he was expecting.

"I think it went pretty well. I killed a bunch of dummies with a sword and then killed a few more with some spears for good measure."

"Good. That should give you a pretty decent score." And then the conversation is over, and we just pace the apartment waiting for Clove to return. About fifteen minutes later, the elevator dings and Clove steps out, a radiant smile plastered on her face. Enobaria raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"Well I don't mean to brag, but I think I did pretty well. I hit all bullseyes with my knives, and then I threw a spear just to prove that I'm stronger than I look." She throws a pointed glance my way. "And that was a bullseye too!"

"Excellent," Enobaria says. "I fully expect you two to receive exceptional scores. And I'm thinking one of you will be returning home. There's no way any of those tributes could beat both of you."

I hold my breath as Glimmer's nine finishes its flash on the screen. My turn now. Moment of truth.

"And for Cato Parkinson of District 2…a ten!" The announcer crows as my headshot and score appear on the TV. I grin cockily. I may have been a little nervous about my session, but I never expected anything less than this from myself. Brutus pats me on the back.

"Clove Linnington of District 2…another ten!" The room erupts in cheers at the realization of two tens for District 2. Clove holds up her hand for a high five, and I slap it gleefully. We continue to watch the other tributes' scores, noting Marina's eight. Thresh is the only one besides us who gets a ten.

"Too bad he said no to us," Clove remarks. "I don't think I want to fight him."

I shrug. "Bigger target on his back." I am about ready to turn the TV off and go to bed, but then I decide I want to see fire girl's score. I wonder if Panem will still be in love with her once everyone realizes she can't do anything but tie knots and identify edible plants. Until the broadcaster announces that she received an eleven.

An…eleven? From District 12? It doesn't make sense. Where the hell would a girl from District 12 learn to use a weapon well enough to get an eleven? I glance at Clove out of the corner of my eye to see her matching look of confusion turn to a glare, and I know her thoughts are along the same line as mine.

"She's dead. I'm sick and tired of her upstaging us all. I call dibs when we get in the arena," Clove says through clenched teeth.

"I don't care who kills her as long as she dies. I'm going to bed," I say angrily.

"Me too." Clove and I both head towards our rooms, stopping outside out doors, which are right across from each other.

"Well, congrats on your ten," I say. And then, I impulsively lean in to give her a hug. She stiffens for a minute, but then returns the gesture.

"Yeah…you too," she mumbles. "Night." And then she disappears into her room. As I enter my own room, I wonder what got into me. I am not a huggy person. I didn't even hug my mother when I saw her for what could have possibly been the last time. Yet I just voluntarily hugged a girl I barely know. A girl who, up until twenty-four hours ago, hated me. I try to ignore the sparks that I felt when I touched her. I must have imagined them. These games are messing with my mind.


	6. Chapter 6

"How do I look?" I ask Ciana, Brutus, Enobaria, and Clove as I approach them at the elevator that will take us up to the stage for our interviews in a few short minutes. After an hour of being prepped by my team and dressed by my stylist, I am confident that I look good.

"Your bowtie is crooked," Clove says with a smirk. She walks over to me and leans up to adjust it. "There. Much better. Now you look…good," she says almost hesitantly, as if noticing for the first time that I am not horrendously ugly.

"You're not so bad yourself," I tease. Actually, she looks gorgeous. She has on a frilly orange dress that stops just above her knee, and her hair is styled in a half up, half down fashion that complements her face. But I am not about to tell her that I think she looks gorgeous. Her ego is big enough as it is.

I wonder if this is how things would have been between Clove and me in a few years if the Reaping had gone differently. If we had been married according to plan and she had eventually warmed up to me. When we were getting ready to go out somewhere, is this the way we would've interacted? Telling each other we look nice and helping each other make last minute clothing adjustments? The idea is tantalizing, perhaps because I know it is something that I know I will never have.

"Alright, enough chitchat; it's time for the interviews!" Ciana chirps, and leads us to a room where the majority of the tributes are already waiting. She positions us in between the tributes from Districts 1 and 3, Clove in front of me. I feel like I'm a fourteen-year-old embarrassed by his mother. I could've figured out where to stand perfectly fine on my own. "I know you'll both do fantastic!" She says, and gives Clove and me each a hug. My embarrassment worsens, and I half expect her to plant a big kiss on my cheek and leave me with a lipstick stain for all of Panem to see. Luckily though, she just trots off in her skyscraper heels and leaves us alone.

"Looks like you guys got a babysitter instead of an escort," Marvel smirks from in front of Clove.

"Ugh. Don't get me started. She's horrible. She makes me almost _want _to die in these Games just so I won't have to come back and deal with her anymore," Clove says. I nod in agreement. While Clove's statement might have been a bit of an exaggeration, there is no exaggerating Ciana's stupidity. She had aggravated both of us from the first day with her shallow outlook on life and excessive vanity, and we were equally ready to be done with her.

"May I present to you…the tributes of the 74th Annual Huger Games!" Caesar Flickerman's voice booms out to the cheers and applause of the Capitol audience, effectively ending our conversation. We all file onto the stage, taking our seats in an arc. I grin as I see the girl from District 3 sitting on my right look at me with terror, as if I might snap her neck right then.

Glimmer is up first, looking disgustingly provocative in a see-through gold gown. She flirts with Caesar and winks at the audience, obviously playing up the sexy angle. I wonder vaguely if it was her choice or if she was forced to do it. Either way, she pulls it off quite well and I can tell she'll be a good source of sponsor gifts in the arena.

Marvel wins over the audience with his humor, finding a way to make a joke out of anything Caesar asks him. Next up is Clove. She answers all her questions sweetly, giving off the impression that she couldn't hurt a fly. The assumption is almost laughable, until I remember that I thought the same until I saw her throw a knife.

"So, Clove, how did such a sweet girl like you manage to get a training score of ten?" The question pulls me out of my thoughts and back to the present.

"I can't tell you that. But never judge a book by its cover," she replies with an overly sweet smile, and her time is up. My turn. I give her a smile as she sits down and I stand up, and proceed to walk up to Caesar, shaking his hand and taking the seat beside him.

So, Cato, you volunteered for these Games. What makes you so confident that you can win?"

I have been instructed by Brutus to be ruthless. To act like an emotionless killer. "I know what I'm capable of. And I know I have what it takes to win. I'm strong, and I won't give up until I have achieved my goal. I was born to win these Games, and that's what I plan on doing."

"Well with a ten in training, it's not hard to imagine you doing just that."

"I would hope not. I'd say the odds are in my favor." This draws a collective chuckle from the audience, and I take a moment to give them a cocky grin.

"How are you liking the Capitol so far?"

"It's nice. I'm more eager to get into the arena, though."

Caesar chuckles. "What a surprise. Do you have any strategy planned out?"

"Of course. But I can't exactly tell you with all of my competitors sitting right here, now can I?"

"I suppose not. But at least tell me this. How do you feel about the abilities of your competition?"

"I think that it's a fair challenge. There were some pretty high scores in training, but it's nothing that I can't overcome. It will make for a good show, though." I think of Katniss Everdeen as I say this, imaging giving the Capitol audience the kind of demise they adore, drawing out her death to show them that her eleven was nothing, nothing compared to me.

"I think we're all in agreement that this is going to be an interesting Hunger Games. Such a variety of tributes from all different backgrounds. Speaking of backgrounds, why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself? What was your life like back at home?"

"My dad is a stone mason, like most of the men in the district. My mom just stays at home. I'm an only child, and I spent most of my time growing up preparing for these Games. It's all I've ever wanted for as long as I can remember, and now I'm ready to fulfill that childhood dream."

"What makes you want to win these Games so bad?"

"I see it as a chance to prove myself. Even though I came from an average background, I'm not average. I want the fame, and the knowledge that everyone knows my name. That, and being a mason for the rest of my life has never really appealed to me, so I had to find a way out of it. Planning to win the Hunger Games seemed like a good alternative." Humor wasn't part of my angle, but I couldn't resist tacking the last part on. Once again, the audience laughs.

"Excellent plan. Once you win, you won't have to worry about working for the rest of your life." Except to mentor tributes and watch them die almost every year, I think. "But I notice you didn't mention anything about a girl," Caesar continues. "Do you not have a special someone back home?"

"No." Well technically, yes, but I'd rather not let the whole country know that I'm engaged to my district partner. I chance a glance at Clove, and she subtly shakes her head, confirming my choice to come up with some other answer. "In all honesty, I was always too busy training to think too much about girls. I've always been more focused on the goal at hand – winning."

"Well, I'm sure that if you win this, you will have no trouble at all finding a nice pretty girl."

"We'll see. But I have to win first. I'm just going to take it one step at a time."

"Sounds like you've got this all planned out," Caesar chuckles. Just then, the buzzer rings, signaling that my three minutes is finally up. "Ladies and gentlemen, Cato Parkinson of District 2!" The audience cheers and claps, and I give them a little wave as I return to my seat, pleased with my performance. I hope all the tributes are even more scared of me than they were before, now that they've seen how eager I am to kill them. The District 3 girl, at least, looks terrified as she passes me on her way up to the stage. Clove gives me a small smile and thumbs up as I sit down, and we watch the rest of the interviews fly by. I can't say that I pay much attention. I don't see the point in getting to know these tributes seeing as I am just going to kill them tomorrow.

However, I do pay attention to Katniss Everdeen's interview. She seems like a brainless fool whose only talents are twirling and stealing a spotlight that should rightfully belong to me. Overall though, I am pleased to see that she doesn't appear to be too bright. It'll make her easier to find in the arena. But as sickening as I find her performance, the audience loves it. She is nothing compared to her district partner, though. I immediately decide that he is just as dumb as Katniss when he confesses his love for her. Anyone who chooses her obviously doesn't have too many lights on upstairs. His confession also hurts his chances in the Games. She already has a huge target on her back. By giving himself a connection to her, he pins one on his own back as well.

As the audience sobs over the District 12 boy's terrible luck, Clove and I traipse back to our apartment, where we are greeted by a jubilant Ciana, who _does _kiss us this time, much to my distaste. At least she waited until after the interview. Brutus isn't quite as complimentary.

"Not exactly what I had in mind for 'ruthless killing machine.' You were too charming. Maybe it'll get you some sponsors, though."

"Gee thanks," I say. I thought I did fine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ciana says. "He was brilliant! I've already had two of my girlfriends call me and tell me how wonderful they think he is. Practically every girl in the Capitol is hoping they can be his 'special someone' once he wins!" I groan at the prospect. Clove laughs.

"I'm going to bed," I mutter, and begin to leave the room.

"Wait, you can't go yet!" Clove catches up to me in the hallway and grabs my arm. "We haven't planned out a strategy for tomorrow. What are we doing once we get in the arena?" She brings up a valid point. I actually hadn't thought about exactly what we'd do once we got in there.

"Oh…uh…I mean obviously we're going to participate in the bloodbath. I guess we'll just have to get to the Cornucopia as fast as we can and get our hands on some weapons. Then eliminate as much competition as we can and try not to let people get away with too much supplies. And kill Everdeen if at all possible. Then we'll just take the remaining supplies and set up camp somewhere." The words seem to flow out of my mouth, and I'm almost proud of myself for thinking of all that before I remember that Marina had said something similar a little while back.

"Alright." She gives me a small smile. "Good luck then. See you tomorrow."

"May the odds be ever in your favor," I say. And with that, we each retreat into our own rooms and try to sleep through what may be our last night ever in a bed.


End file.
